Moonlight Ride
by i'mnotcrazy82
Summary: About 6 months after his release from Mayfield, House decides he needs to come clean to Cuddy. AU, just my imagination. Huddy. Complete. Not adding another chapter, just separating the epilogue into it's own chapter. Sorry.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N...So, I've been MIA recently. I've had a lot of RL issues come up, including a big move. But now, I'm back, and better than ever :) I hope you enjoy this.**_

***** ****Moonlight Ride**** *****

**~ Chapter One ~**

**Weary Wondering**

_**Moonlight Drive – The Doors**_

_  
Let's swim to the moon, uh huh  
Let's climb through the tide  
Penetrate the evenin' that the  
City sleeps to hide  
Let's swim out tonight, love  
It's our turn to try  
Parked beside the ocean  
On our moonlight drive _

Dr. Lisa Cuddy sat behind her desk, staring at her computer monitor until the the letters and numbers became blurry. She sat back in her chair, and she sighed deeply, struggling to not let it turn into a yawn. She glanced at the clock on the wall, and she was surprised at how late it had become. She had already informed her babysitter that she wouldn't be home until very late, as she had been all the past week.

She prepared the quarterly reports and departmental budgets for the next Board of Director's meeting first thing Monday morning. But now, it was late Friday, and she was soon finished. All she had to do was finish filling out the data and e-mail everything to the various directors. She could relax and enjoy the rest of the weekend, comfortable in the knowledge that this would be the last late night at least for a few days.

She reached for the last file from the now shrunken pile, and when she read the label, her heart lodged in her throat. _Department of Diagnostic Medicine _was typed in neat print on the white sticker. Tentatively, she opened the file, and she saw the familiar scrawl of its former department head, and underneath that, she saw the neater, yet unfamiliar script, of Dr. Eric Foreman. It was an unwelcome reminder of the severe changes that they had all been forced to go through the past few months.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, then she steeled her will, and she began to mechanically fill out the data, like she had a million times before. When the last bit of information had been filled out, she saved the document, backed it up on her portable driver, then she e-mailed it out to the Board members. That done, she powered down the computer. Exhausted, she leaned back in her chair, and for a moment, she closed her eyes, suppressing the knot that had formed in the pit of her stomach.

Yawning deeply, she reluctantly stood up, and she pulled on her wool coat. _Six months,_ she thought to herself. _Six months since that awful day in __**this **__office. Since the day the fragile relationship that I had with my two best friends came to a screeching halt. Since it fell apart. _Seasons had changed from summer's stifling heat to early fall's crisp, sunny days, to now, late fall's biting winds, a reminder that winter's deep chill was on its way.

Rachael had celebrated her first Halloween, her first Rosh Hashanah. Thanksgiving was just around the corner, as was her first birthday. She'd experienced all the milestones that a year old toddler experienced, and she was growing so fast. It seemed like the days were flying by, and Cuddy had an awful feeling that if she blinked, she would miss her daughter's childhood.

She locked up her office, fighting the loneliness that threatened to well up inside her chest. She made her way out of the hospital, feeling that a zombie must feel like she was – stiff and numb, mentally and emotionally.

She tried not to think of him, but he was never far away from her thoughts, no matter how much he hurt her. He had ignored her from the time that he had returned, only associating with her when he needed to. She'd heard rumors of a relationship with a psychiatrist at Mayfield, and that had hurt her more than she would ever admit to a living being. Between the rumors, and how he now barely spoke to her, their familiar banter that had been a security blanket to her had lost its spice.

It was over.

She made her way through the parking lot. The slow realization that she had failed at yet again another relationship, and ruined her two closest friendships in the process, cut through her heart like a hot knife, burning as it sliced through.

Wilson now barely spoke to her, as well, and when he did, it was completely professional, to the point of being devoid of human emotion. Every time she tried to turn the conversation towards House, he would mumble a weak excuse, and he would beat a hasty exit. For days afterwords, he wouldn't be able to look her in the eyes.

She walked over to her car, head down, and eyes cast to the ground. She felt that all the burdens in the world had been placed on her fragile shoulders. Fighting tears, she was happy there was no one else in the parking lot to see her cry, no one to see the tough-as-nails Dean of Medicine to break down.

She fumbled in her purse, looking for her keys. She wanted to get in her car quickly, so she could sit inside and have a good cry in the well upholstered seat of her Prius. Cursing under her breath, she paused to sift through the contents of her small purse, wondering how her keys had shifted to the bottom. As if the night couldn't get any worse.

Then she heard a throat clearing.

Her head snapped up. She had been wallowing in self pity, and she had forgotten that she was a single woman walking alone in a dark, poorly lit parking lot late at night. She froze, and she squinted through the dark around her car. She spotted a dark shadow, leaning against her car door. She went into Def-Com four mode, and positioned her thumb on the speed dial button for 911 on her cell phone. Just before she pressed the button, she realized that the shadow was twirling a long thin object.

She sighed, forcing herself to relax. Then she inhaled deeply, and she called out, as confidently as she could, "House!"

He limped out of the shadows, the grimy orange shaded parking lot lights giving his aristocratic features a grim and sickly cast. The light played off the planes of his face, making him seem far more gaunt and pale than he really was. She noticed that his eyes still burned a brilliant blue, even in the dark of night, and with the intensity of a laser, those eyes were focused right on her.

"We have to talk."


	2. Chapter 2

**~ Chapter Two ~**

**What We Say, What We Mean**

_**Something In The Way - Nirvana**_

_Underneath the bridge_

_The tarp has sprung a leak_

_And the animals Ive trapped_

_Have all become my pets_

_And Im living off of grass_

_And the drippings from the ceiling_

_Its okay to eat fish_

_cause they dont have any feelings_

_Something in the way, mmm_

_Something in the way, yeah, mmm_

"We have to talk."

It was simple and straightforward, not like him at all. There was no banter, no teasing, just four simple words.

Four words that scared the hell out of her.

She knew he wanted her attention, but she was tired, upset, and angry. She was tired of the games, tired of fighting for him, only to have it tossed back into her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry, summoning her will to confront him.

So she laughed. Bitterly.

"It's after midnight, House. If you want to talk, we'll talk, on my time." She moved to walk around him, to reach her car, but he he stuck out his cane, blocking her. She knew that he knew she was making a mistake, that she knew that his windows of opportunity to open up to her were minuscule.

"We talk tonight, or never." He pulled something off the top of her car, and he tossed it to her. It was a sleek, black motorcycle helmet, and, judging by the size, it would fit her perfectly.

"House?" She turned the helmet over in her hands, feeling the smooth, cool fiberglass coating rub along her palms. She blinked, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "I...I can't. Rachael..."

"Your mom came down for a surprise visit." He shrugged, keeping his voice nonchalant.

"My mom...?" Cuddy muttered to herself. "My mother doesn't come here..." She lifted her head, and she looked him in his intense eyes. "You called her down, didn't you? How did you get her phone numb..."

"How do you think you got your desk?" He gave her a sly half smile. "I told her that you were being overworked again. Not a lie!" He answered her incredulous look. "I...sort of implied that I was going to take you away for the weekend." He smirked smugly. "She seemed happy that 'that dashing Greg House' was going to take care of you."

She stopped fighting her emotions, and they rolled out of her in waves. "You're lying to me. You always lie to me." Tears began to stream down her cheeks. "You treat me like...like an unwanted Clinic patient for months, then you decide that we 'need to talk.' What about my life, my time?" She shook her head violently. "I'm done. I'm through. Enough of the games." She threw the helmet back at him. "I'm your boss' boss now. Nothing more."

For a second, their gazes met, both hard and stubborn. Their eyes glittered in the dark. Hers with tears, both shed and unshed. His with pain. He leaned heavily on his cane, his knuckles white with tension. He shifted his gaze away from her, not wanting to see the pain that he had caused her. Then, very slowly, he relaxed, and very softly, he murmured something, his breath misting in the cold night air.

She didn't quite hear him, so she tilted her head slightly to one side, and she waited.

His eyes flickered back to hers, and he inhaled deeply. "I'm...I'm sorry," he muttered.

She was sure her jaw dropped with shock at that revelation.

Then he continued.

"I'm sorry, for driving you insane with lust for the past twenty years. God! If I had only let you jump my bones when you hired me, just think of all the trouble it may have prevented. I'm pretty sure I could have convinced Stacy to have a threesome." He smirked, but she saw the honest truth blazing from his eyes.

She inhaled, wondering if she should slap him or cry. She instead smiled wearily, then she pulled her cell phone out of her purse. He groaned audibly, and she swore she heard him mutter, "I can't believe your checking up on my story. Jesus, you'd think you can trust me by now." He glared at her unconvincingly, tapping his cane in a rapid beat on the concrete.

As she heard the phone ring, she mouthed to him, "Since when have I ever trusted you?" Her own mouth twisting up in a weak smirk of her own. Then, someone picked up on the other end, and she twisted away from him, focusing on the conversation. "Hi, Mom? Are you really there? How's..."

As she asked questions, and as she listened to her mother answer them, she felt him limp up behind her. His sheer force of presence sent chills up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold November air. He felt familiar, like an old jacket pulled from the attic, but distant. He was there physically, but emotionally, he was light years away.

He stood behind her during the whole short conversation, but he never touched her. He was a reassuring presence, but she still felt like there was much more they needed to discuss. They had changed, and she feared that it wasn't for the best.

After her mom had finally said her goodbye's, she pressed the end call button. She turned, and she found him there, looking lost, but impetuous. Like he was up to something. She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "You called my mother down here. Why?" She set her jaw, demanding a straightforward answer from him.

And he knew that she wouldn't let him deflect or lie. The damn woman could a human lie detector when she wanted to.

Sighing, he paused for a long moment before answered. "We need to talk. Away from...this...," he gestured vaguely at the hospital.

"Away from the games," She murmured to the night air, her voice soft, gentle, apologizing for being demanding.

He met her eyes once again, reassuring her. "Away from the inane social structure that makes you Cuddy." Taking a deep breath, he floored her with one sentence.

"I need to talk to you, Lisa."


	3. Chapter 3

**~ Chapter Three ~**

**Haunting Memories**

**__****Trust - Megadeth**

_I try to let go, but I know_

_We'll never end til we're dust_

_We lied to each other again_

_But I wish I could trust_

_My body aches from mistakes_

_Betrayed by lust_

_We lied to each other so much_

_That in nothing we trust_

_"I need to talk to _you, _Lisa." _

She swore her heart stopped in her chest. She couldn't remember the last time she had heard him call her _Lisa._ _Oh yes you do,_ a little voice in the back of mind crooned. _Back at Michigan. In his apartment. In his bed... _

_Shut up! _She screamed at her mind. _Oh god, _she muttered to herself. _I must be going crazy. Or, I'm asleep. That's it. I fell asleep at my desk. This is all a dream. _She closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up. Instead, flashes of her long suppressed memories of the one night she opened up to him, both emotionally and physically, flashed through her mind. She remembered the hard, wet kisses, the way they acted like they would never have the chance again. She remembered the way he filled her, and how she had never found someone that could make her feel like that again, both how he made her come, crying his name so loudly that she was pretty sure the neighbors heard, but also how simultaneously he had made her feel like the most beautiful and desirable woman in the world.

They way he clung to her when the act was over, and how she left him sleeping in his bed, with just a note of "thanks" and "farewell" scribbled on one of his notebooks. She shuddered at the memory.

When she finally opened her eyes again, he stood in front of her, flashing a penlight in her eyes.

"House, stop." She swatted his hands away.

"Oh, good. You're back. I was worried. You know, sudden hot flashes and dizziness could be signs of menopause." He couldn't conceal his smirk if he tried.

She opened her mouth to retort, then she snapped it shut again. Finally, she drew a deep breath. "I'm fine. And I'm not menopausal. At least not yet."

"Okay." He nodded. "It could also be the hots you have for me. I _know _I have that affect on you."

"House. I'm fine. And the feelings that I have right now have _nothing _to do with having the hots for you," she knew she was lying, but she'd had a good teacher when it came to deflection through lies.

"Good. C'mon then. We only have the weekend. And Saturday's already started."

"Okay."

"Okay? Seriously?" He over leaned on his cane, and he nearly tripped. He thought he was going to have a much more difficult time in getting her to go.

She blinked at him, then repeated. "Okay. You have me, but you have to talk to me. Let me know what was going on, and not just the weak deflective bullshit you're used to giving me." She hit the button on her key fob to unlock her car, but he blocked her from opening up the door handle.

"Huh-uh." He jerked his head toward the other side of her car. She slowly followed his directions, wondering what he was up to, then she saw the new(er) black motorcycle that partially hid itself in the shadows.

She choked out a laugh. "No way in hell, House! It's November. I'm going to freeze! Not to mention I'm in heels!" She shot him a look. "We take my car."

His face became expressionless again. "Do you trust me?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugged. "Do you trust me? It's a simple question, Cuddy. Answer it."

She sighed and paused for a long moment. "No, I don't trust you. Not completely," she answered him honestly, knowing that he would except nothing less.

"Good answer. You shouldn't." He limped to her, and he handed her the helmet back. "You should do this, though. You'll have a lot more fun."

He stood so close to her. Close enough for her to inhale his scent. He smelled like a man, like cigars, scotch, leather, and, of all odd things, antiseptic. She couldn't help but feel a tingle in her belly at his scent, at his closeness. It was a feeling she'd had since she first met him. No one had ever been as intriguing as him, but then again, she mused to herself, she must have had a thing for insane bad boys.

He quickly moved away, moving surprising stealthily for a man with a limp. That caused another twinge in her stomach, but this was not a pleasurable sensation. This was made up of guilt.

Ten years. It had been over a decade since he had came into the Clinic, complaining of leg pain. After the misdiagnosis, she had been his attending. She had been the one to suggest the "middle ground" procedure. Even though Stacy had been his proxy, and she had approved, Cuddy still felt guilty for giving the okay. She had watched from the sidelines as his life had fallen apart around him that first time.

He wasn't the only one who had a guilty conscience about the past. She just dealt with it better.

"You're not changing your mind about not trusting me, are you?" He brought her back to the present, and she looked up at him, studying him as he studied her. "If you are, I'm going to blame Cameron. I can do no wrong in that woman's eyes." He smirked at her.

"Get over yourself," she snorted.

"So lady-like, too," He thrust something soft in her hands. She gave him a puzzled look, while unfolding the fabric. He nodded to the jacket. "Synthetic leather." He patted his own jacket. "While I have no problem wearing Bessie, I know about your unnatural aversion to such things. I don't want to offend you while trying to get into your pants."

"I knew that was your ulterior motive," she mumbled, sliding the coat over her shoulders. Like the helmet, it was a perfect fit. "House," She struggled to get the words out, but all that left her throat were squeaks. She gave up, and she found her voice with another question.

"Where are you taking me?"

He grinned, blue eyes sparkling in the night. "You'll find out when we get there."


	4. Chapter 4

**~ Chapter Four ~**

**The Lonely Road**

_**Green Day - Boulevard of Broken Dreams**_

_I'm walking down the line_

_That divides me somewhere in my mind_

_On the border line_

_Of the edge and where I walk alone_

_Read between the lines_

_What's fucked up and everything's alright_

_Check my vital signs_

_To know I'm still alive and I walk alone_

_My shadow's the only one that walks beside me_

_My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating_

_Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me_

_'Til then I walk alone_

The full moon shone bright as they left for their trip, and for the long hours, it darted in and out of clouds, but it haunted them along their way. They road until it sank behind the horizon, and they road further after that. She clung to him tightly, exhausted after a long day at work, and even longer evening in her office, and now, a long ride into the great unknown. Exhausted, but now, exhilarated, adrenaline pumping through her veins at the speed of the bike.

It had been a quiet ride, as their helmets prevented discussion. It had been cold, but her new jacket was well lined. He also provided her with thick gloves, and a pair of ankle high boots, understanding her love of heels, but noting that said heels were completely useless for the bike. She had luckily picked out slacks that morning, but they still didn't keep her legs as warm as his gifts had made the rest of her body.

She tried to understand him thinking of her in such a thoughtful way. The boots, gloves, jacket, and helmet had been perfect fits. Had he always been that attentive? She knew his observation skills were phenomenal, but, she had to admit to herself, this was borderline stalking, and obsessive, even for him.

Still, she was grateful, as the clothes protected her from the cold night air. _Too bad,_ she thought, _that they can't protect us from each other._ She swallowed at that unbidden thought, and she wondered how this little trip couldn't end in disaster.

So she clung to him tighter as they wound their way down long forgotten roads, feeling the planes of his body through the leather. She felt her breathing quicken, and a heat pooled deep in her womb. She tried to ignore the feelings that were threatening to rise up, uncontrollable. _This can't happen, _she scolded herself. _This won't happen. It's _House. _For one lapse in judgment, I could pay for it for the rest of my life. Is the pleasure worth it? Is losing control with him worth the pain I know it will cause. Does he even feel the same way? And, oh my god, I left Rachael, just left her, for what? The possibility of having wild and passionate sex with the hospital lunatic?_

Before the weight of her responsibilities could overwhelm her, however, she pushed them out of her mind, and she decided to revel in the freedom that the bike, and it's driver, gave her.

The ride for him, on the other hand, had become more and more uncomfortable.

Physically, riding a bike when a certain part of his anatomy refused to droop below half mast had posed a particular problem. The thought of her lithe, warm body pressed against his, her arms around his waist, caused his mouth to become dry, and his thoughts drifted away from the road. When he felt her press against him, her breasts against his back, he found himself muttering to himself inside the helmet, "_Wilson naked. Think of Wilson naked._" That would help for a little while, until she would shift against him, causing stars to spring in front of his eyes, and he grew even that much harder.

He was having a very hard time not imagining the things he wanted to do with her body, here on the back of the bike. He grinned at the thought of some of the things they could do, then grimaced at the thought of telling her his fantasies. Somehow, he knew that he would be lucky to get a death glare, if not a slap.

Mentally, he was anguishing over what he was going to tell her. He had never been good at opening up to anyone, and he doubted that that was going to happen. He swore that a lead weight had formed in his belly, his doubt that he made the right decision. It had been a snap decision he had made earlier that day, to ask her on this trip. He had planned to come alone, to sort out matters by himself, but on impulse, he decided that he needed to ask her to come along. Swallowing his doubt, he tightened his grip on the throttle, causing the engine to rev, and the bike to speed up. She pressed against him once again, and he frowned, feeling guilty over his mixed emotions.

What was he going to do, to say? He wracked his mind for answers, but none where coming to him. The anxiety was building. He had been sure that she was going to reject him. Since she hadn't, the scant plans that he had made were going to change.

He continued traveling north, skirting around the giant cities that ate up large chunks of the east coast. He road until the lightening eastern sky was in front of them, carrying them ever forward to their destination.

His nerves were still on edge, and they were growing ever more so with each passing mile, as was the lump in his throat. His palms were sweaty, he could feel them in his gloves, despite the cold air. Something was going to change for him this weekend, he could feel it. He just didn't know if it was for good or for ill.

Through their leathers, she felt him tense up. She knew from the beginning that something was up, that something was going to happen, and knowing him the way she did, she also knew that this had been impulsive. That somehow, he had decided to let her come along for a reason, even if he himself didn't know the reason. That that fact must be scaring the hell out of him. She clutched him tighter, hoping to reassure him that she was with him, no matter what would come of their trip together.

She tried to come up with clever answers that he might give her to her questions, if he even let her question him at all. She wondered if he just would give her his explanation, and then, that would be that, and he would give her no more chances to find out what was behind the armor.

But, her brain had turned sluggish with the worry, and the exhaustion had finally caught up with her. Summoning up her courage, she took her hand off his waist, and she tapped him on the shoulder hard enough to get his attention. He registered the sign; he had instructed her to do so when she wanted him to pull off the road, but he had warned her not to do it every fucking five minutes. She hadn't tapped him at all since they had left Princeton.

He pulled off into the nearest rest stop, where he killed the engine. He pulled his helmet off, and he watched as she did the same. Stifling a yawn, he asked, "What do you want?"

Shaking her hair out, she stretched slightly, feeling the stiff muscles in her back and shoulders. She answered him, "Hot coffee, good food, and a clean bathroom. STAT."

He grinned at her. "Yes Mistress."

They put their helmets back on, and he started the engine. They slowly pulled out onto the highway, heading for their next destination.

**_A/N - I made a very slight edit to this, to make it a bit clearer. Thank you, Huddy28. I try my best, but sometimes, I get so caught up in the story, that I miss those little details that help you guys know what's going on :) If you all ever catch something, let me know! I'm far from perfect :)_**


	5. Chapter 5

**~ Chapter 5 ~**

**Arrival**

_**Bleeding Me – Metallica**_

_I'm digging my way  
I'm digging my way to something  
I'm digging my way to something better  
I'm pushing to stay  
I'm pushing to stay with something  
I'm pushing to stay with something better_

_Caught under wheels' roll  
I take the leech, I'm bleeding me  
Can't stop to save my soul  
I take the leash that's leading me  
I'm bleeding me... I can't take it!  
Caught under wheels' roll  
Oh, the bleeding of me,  
...of me, the bleeding of me _

The sun hadn't yet risen over the eastern horizon, but when he pulled up to the weather beaten diner, it had turned a pinkish gray. The ramshackle building wasn't located too far from the shore, and the air was thick with the smell of salt and sea. The diner itself looked like it had survived nearly a century of hurricanes and nor'easters. The gray weathered siding and the roof that was missing shingles gave it a dilapidated look. The cracked sign that hung haphazardly over the door read _QUEEN ANNE'S LACE._

They pulled off their helmets, and Cuddy gave him an unamused look. "This place looks like it was the inspiration for a Stephan King novel." She crinkled her nose at the run down building.

Best food and coffee in the state of Massachusetts," he informed her enthusiastically. He got off the bike rather stiffly, rubbing his thigh. "Can't guarantee the clean bathrooms, though." He shot her a grin, then grimaced.

She shook her head. "So, we're in Massachusetts?" She watched him retrieve his cane from a special holder on the bike, and she noticed that he didn't look like he was in much pain. "Where are you taking me?" she asked as she tried to get off the bike, but, after six hours on the back of the bike, her muscles weren't responding kindly to the change of position. Crying out, she stumbled, and she found herself being cradled in his arms.

Whoa, there. You're not exactly light, you know. Your ass has more weight in it than my skinny frame can handle," he murmured, helping her stand up. At the look she gave him, he grinned, then softly, a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "We'll sit in the warm diner. It'll help."

She shook her head, then nodded. "I'm not used to you being a gentleman."

He smirked. "Maybe I just wanted to cop a feel, or look down your jacket. Your choice."

She laughed, then she straightened up, separating herself from him. "Coffee, now."

They walked inside, and the blast of warmth from the heater hit her, lifting the chill from her bones. She inhaled deeply, relishing the smell of mouthwatering food. They found a corner booth, and a disinterested waitress slammed down two menu's. "Whadda ya want?" She asked in a thick Boston accent.

"Coffee." House answered. They both sat in the warmth of the booth. Even after the brusque delivery of their coffee, which Cuddy had to admit was the best she had ever drunk, and the order of their food, they both just sat, allowing the warmth of the place to seep deep into their cold and weary bones.

There were so many questions she wanted to ask, so many things she wanted to know, but she couldn't bring herself to ask them. There was something comforting about their silence, but, that silence, that lack of communication, is what brought them to this point. She sullenly picked at her food, not really tasting anything. She wondered if they could truly open up to each other. If she could truly could open up to him.

"You're worried." His voice brought her back to reality. A long fingered hand darted across the table, snagging a piece of toast. "Not that I blame you. You left Princeton. On a whim. Not telling anyone." His gaze was x-raying her. Like he was trying to read her mind, and succeeding. Then, chewing thoughtfully, he observed, "you're having second thoughts about this, but you're trapped. I'm sure you leaving your purse in the trunk of your car isn't helping your anxiety. Certainly isn't going to help me when the check comes. Are you familiar with the concept of 'dine and dash?'"

She gave him an unamused look, then smirked. "Just because I left my purse in the trunk, doesn't mean I'm not unprepared." She pulled her driver's license, cell phone, and a credit card out of her one of her pockets. "Just in case this is an elaborate plan to abandon me in the middle of nowhere."

He answered her smirk. "Would I really do something like that to you?" He polished off her last piece of toast.

"In a heartbeat. Especially in punishment for putting Foreman in charge, even if it's just until you get your medical license back." She pushed the plate away, a knot of anxiety settling again in her stomach. "Where are we going?"

He was quiet for a long moment, then he took a deep breath. "Pay the bill, and I'll show you.

---------------------

About forty-five minutes later, they pulled up to a small sea-side cottage that was located down a long, tree lined driveway. There was no garage, just a small storage shed in the same light blue-gray siding. He parked the bike in front of the cottage, and as he killed the engine, she pulled off the helmet to admire the wild and forlorn beauty of the place.

"What is this?" she asked him, wide-eyed.

"It's been in my mother's family for years. Anyone in the family is welcome to use it." He shrugged, then admitted, "I haven't been here since I was a kid, but after...what happened, I decided that I needed to rest, so I called my Aunt Sarah." He snapped out of his monologue, and he pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. "C'mon let's go in.

He didn't give her a tour. He just pointed to a door down a short hall off the large living room/foyer. "Bathroom. Bedroom across the hall." He turned around and left her in the empty house.

Sighing, she went first to the bedroom, and she smiled at the nautical theme that ran through the house. Her eyes scanned the room, and she saw a note lying on the dresser. She walked over, and she picked it up.

_Greg -_

_Enjoy the place. If you need anything, just give me or your uncle a call. You're welcome to use it longer than the weekend._

_- Aunt Sarah._

She had to smile, at least they weren't breaking into someone else's vacation home.

She walked over to the bathroom, and she climbed into the shower. She had debated taking a bath or shower, but she was tired, and she just wanted to get clean quickly. She was too tired and sore to think anymore. She let the hot water massage her stiff muscles, relishing the feeling. When she felt sufficiently warm and clean, she climbed out, and she dried off with one of the large, fluffy towels that were left on the counter top. She towel dried her hair, and she slipped on a large, soft robe hanging off the door peg.

She headed to the bedroom, and she decided to lay down. She wasn't planning on taking a nap, she just wanted to organize her thoughts, but she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.


	6. Chapter 6

**~ Chapter Six ~**

**Reflections**

_**Hollow Man – Iced Earth**_

_Emptiness consuming me  
Head in hands, I can hardly speak  
looking for solitude, Lost in humanity  
True knowledge leads to suffering  
A constant quest an endless dream  
Searching for inner peace, hidden so deep in me  
_

_Don't wanna be a hollow man  
Ain't gonna be the hollow man__  
Don't wanna be a hollow man  
Ain't gonna be the hollow man _

_  
Sadness comes knocking constantly  
Filling up my eyes, for all to see  
Peace will come some day, I pray that it finds a way _

**  
**She reluctantly opened her eyes, relishing the warmth of the bed. She rolled over, and she saw him, staring at her from a chair in the room. She sat up, memories of the ride and their destination flooding back. "We need to talk," he told her. She sat up, and she realized she was still wearing the bathrobe. He stood up, using his cane for leverage, and he took the thick, wool afghan blanket from the back of the chair. He wrapped her in it, and he led her out the door in the room that lead to a small patio. He settled on the bench that was pushed against the wall of the cottage, gazing out over the gray skies and sullen seas, trying to figure out what he was going to say next.

She sat at the other end of the bench, wrapping the soft afghan around her tightly. The anxiety that had disappeared during the sleep had come back full force, knotting itself deep in her abdomen. She felt tired and empty, drained of all her energy. She kept her eyes focused on the slate gray skies and stone gray seas, watching the white capped waves churn and crash against the sand and rocks.

His eyes were focused on her. She had put as much space between them as she could, and he knew that was her way of coping, isolating herself from the situation. She could become as cold as the north wind that was blowing, causing him to shiver slightly, but he knew that below her cool, calm surface, there was a deep burning fire. He knew she cared, but, like him, she often muffled those feelings and deflected them away.

But he needed her to react, so he decided to use the direct approach.

"I'm a misanthropic ass." He watched as her nostrils flared a bit, but she kept still, her eyes focused on the stormy sea. Her eyes were the same color as the gray-blue water, the same color as the cottage walls. He was entranced how her eyes could change color due to her mood, shifting from a silvery gray to a steel blue. But now, he was sure those calm gray eyes were hiding an inner turmoil. He needed to break her free from her inner prison. A self imposed prison whose walls he had helped her build.

He sighed, then started again. "I'm an ass, and you're a cold-hearted bitch." He knew, as soon as the words left his mouth, that he had offended her, but he wanted, no, he _needed_ her to react. She finally took her eyes off the churning waters to look at him, a shocked and insulted expression etched on her face. She opened her mouth to refute him, but he cut her off.

"It's true. You're distancing yourself from the situation right now. You're bracing yourself, hiding behind that damn wall you built." He watched her shiver and shrink away from him, even though she was curled up underneath the blanket. "You're processing this, and your acting like a damn heartless, soulless robot. So you can't get hurt."

"You son of a bitch," she breathed. She flicked her eyes to his, hurt by the blunt truth of the statement.

"I may be a son of a bitch, but at least I don't lie to myself about it." She opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off again. "Why?" he asked simply.

"Why what?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"Why do you keep sticking up for me, when all I do is make you miserable?" His gaze bored into hers, electric blue in the gray landscape. She knew his thoughts were churning, like the waters a hundred yards away.

And she knew she had to give a little before he'd open up.

"House," she sighed. "We've known each other for twenty years. Despite your misanthropy, and total regard for anything close to resembling rules or social norms, you're a good man, and a good doc..."

"Cut the crap, Cuddy! I know your well rehearsed speech about how I'm 'a good doctor,' and how I'm 'an asset to the hospital.'" I don't want to hear that shit right now! I want to know what _you _think! Can't you give me that?"

He had gotten up, and he paced in front of her, gesturing wildly as he made his points. He seemed oblivious to the chilly air that cut through his jeans and shirt.

She fought to keep her tears at bay, but she heard the plea in his voice. She knew what she wanted to say, but something held her back. Her words kept dying in her throat.

Finally, she inhaled deeply, then, she exhaled slowly, trying to calm her emotions. "You're right," she said softly. "I am cold hearted." She looked away from him, focusing on the choppy waves, not wanting to see his reaction. "I've screwed up every relationship I've ever been in. I'd fooled myself into thinking that a white knight would come and sweep me off my feet, taking me away to a suburban 'happily ever after.'" She laughed bitterly. "But, I've come to find out that it's all a lie, and the longest relationship I've been in," her eyes met his boldly, "has been with _you_."

He stared at her, stunned, but he kept silent, waiting for her to continue.

"The love of my life, and easily my best friend, is a misanthropic, drug abusing, bastard, who belittles me and questions my judgment on a daily basis." She sighed deeply, closing her eyes, rubbing her temples. "I expect to hear your stones and barbs so often, that, thanks to you, I've developed a thick skin, so you can't hurt me. But, sometimes, one of those arrows gets through."

He swallowed, and he sat back down next to her. He didn't look at her, but he kept his eyes on the ocean. "I never meant to hurt you," he whispered softly, closing his eyes.

"But?"

He smiled weakly. "But, I have. I did. And, I'm probably going to do it again.

"I'm not a white knight, Cuddy. There won't be a happily ever after, and I'll make you cry far more than I'll ever make you happy. I'm always gonna be a misanthropic son of a bitch, and I'll probably continue to belittle you in front of your subordinates and superiors.

"I don't have a crystal ball, and I don't know what lies ahead. I just know," he sighed, struggling with the words, "I just know...good or bad...right or wrong...I want, no, I _need_ you. By my side. On my side.

"Call it love, trust, or admiration. Call it whatever the hell you want. I don't care. I just know...that without you...life's just not worth living."

For a few moments, they sat in silence, as she processed his words. Then, the damn that was holding her tears back broke open, and she felt the tears flow hot down her cheeks. He awkwardly placed his arm around her, and she sobbed into his chest. After a few more moments, he gently told her "I kinda suck at this comforting crap, you know." She reluctantly sat up, sniffling.

She muttered, her voice still thick with tears. "Let's go back inside."

"That, is the best idea you've had all day." They both got up, and they returned to the warm cottage, processing what had just happened.


	7. Chapter 7

**~ Chapter Seven ~**

**Thoughts and Prayers**

_**I Just Want You – Ozzy Osbourne**_

_I'm sick and tired of bein' sick and tired  
I used to go to bed so high and wired,  
I think I'll buy myself some plastic water  
I guess I should have married Lennon's daughter_

_There are no unachievable goals  
There are no unsaveable souls  
No legitimate kings or queens, _

_do you know what I mean?_

_There are no indisputable truths  
And there ain't no fountain of youth  
Each night when the day is through,  
I don't ask much_

_I just want you _

They re-entered the cottage, and he announced that he was going to take a shower. She began to look for her clothes, and he motioned to a shopping bag sitting on the dresser. "Called your mom while I was out earlier, asked for sizes," he gave her a lecherous grin, then he limped into the bathroom.

She pulled a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt out of the bag, and that surprised her. Somehow, the thought of House shopping for her and _not_ bringing back a pair of fishnets, crotchless panties, and a see-through teddy was disconcerting. But, she happily pulled the clothes on, happy for the warmth they provided; she felt like the cold had seeped into her very bones. She wandered around the cottage for a few minutes, and she began to feel trapped, confined. It wasn't due to the physical walls of the building, either.

She pulled on the boots and the jacket, and she left the heat of the cottage, and she walked back out into the cold air. She walked out to a rocky outcrop that overlooked the stormy seas. The cliff jutted out over the churning waters about twenty feet below her. To the left, it stretched down the length of the coast, growing in height. To the right, it gently sloped down to a small beach, where the waters gently lapped against the sand and pebbles, instead of crashing against the rocky walls of the cliffs.

At the edge of the outcrop, she sat down on the hard, cold ground, the smell of salt and water permeating her senses. She wrapped the jacket closely around her, gazing out at the ocean, but not really seeing anything.

Her thoughts drifted to his words, her words, and what it all meant. It would have been easier if House had been an ass, then the excuse that there could never be a "them" would have worked. She had Rachael now, and even more responsibilities. House...well, House was House, and she could no longer drop everything to be by his side.

Or so she thought.

She didn't dare think of the repercussions of them being an item at the hospital. The Board had been trying to find a way to get rid of him for years. Now, without his medical license, he was skating on very thin ice, and any whiff of impropriety between the two of them would send him falling through.

And that would be her fault.

She could do that to him. She already cost him the use of his leg, or so she felt. She wouldn't cost him his job as well. She drew her knees up to her chest, and she wrapped her arms around them, trying to keep as warm as possible, while swallowing her regret.

"Don't do that."

At the sound of his rumbling voice, she looked over, and she saw him limping towards her. With some effort, he settled on the ground beside her, stretching his legs out in front of him. "You know it's really fucking cold out here, right?"

"Don't do what?" He was so close, she could smell the soap he had used in his shower. His very presence was nearly enough to overwhelm her.

"Analyze, Rationalize. That's my job." His eyes followed hers out to the sea.

So close, yet so far away. She could hear his breathing, feel his presence, yet, they could have been on separate planets. "What...what happens next?" She couldn't look at him.

"We could go back inside and have insanely hot and kinky sex in every room of that cottage. After all, I'm sure that's how I was conceived." She couldn't stop herself from cracking a weak smile, but they still didn't look at each other. It was far easier to watch the waves. She shivered, but she wasn't sure if it was from the cold, or from the chill between them. "You're gonna get hypothermia or pneumonia if you stay out here," he commented mildly.

She shrugged, "Greg, I..."

"Don't, Lisa, please. Just...don't. Nothing changes. We go back to Princeton, and we go back to being House and Cuddy. You go back to worrying about your brat and your hospital. I go back to worrying about my pain, and about getting my license back. About _if_ I can get my license back." She noticed the wistful note of regret and sadness in his voice.

"Oh, Greg," she breathed. "I'm so..."

"What? Sorry? Don't be. I did this to myself. Well, technically, you _did _okay the procedure that Stacy demanded, the one that left me a cripple and needing vicodin to begin with. So, yeah, beat yourself up all you want.

"Just know," his voice dropped low. "Just know, that I'm not blaming you. I never blamed you."

She wrung her hands. "I still feel..."

"Guilty?" he finished for her. "Guilt's a funny thing." She gave him an incredulous look. "It's true. Best comedians of our time were wracked with guilt. I mean..."

"Stop deflecting," she admonished him.

"Only when you do," he shot back.

He sighed, "Look, Lisa. I know what you're thinking." She scoffed at him, and he rolled his eyes at her reaction. "I'm not a damn White Knight, so shut up and listen. You're not feeling guilty about my pain, or my lack of a license. You're feeling guilty about ditching your family, friends, and responsibilities to go on a weekend adventure with me, the hospital lunatic.

"And that scares the hell out of you."

She sighed, irritated, turning her eyes to the low, gray skies. "I thought I gave up on there ever being an...'us'...a long time ago." She could feel him smirk, but she ignored him, and he kept quiet. "I thought that...'we'...had no chance in hell of ever happening, especially after what happened this past spring."

"But?" He tilted his head, questioning her.

"But, this weekend... These thoughts have come back, despite me trying to rationalize them away."

"Why can't 'we' happen? Not that I want an 'us'" he said quickly. "Just following your rationale."

"You're a drug addict. You'll always be an egotistical asshole. I can't imagine us being a normal couple, going on dates, talking about our days over coffee. You raising Rachael..."

"I hallucinated us having sex."

He blurted it out, and one of the knots of tension that had settled in his belly slowly relaxed.

"Why didn't you...?" She was stunned by his revelation. She had heard rumors, had wondered about Wilson's sudden awkwardness around her... "Oh, god." She buried her face in her hands, feeling the heat of her embarrassment warming her cold fingers. "Wilson knows."

"You honestly think I wouldn't tell my bestest buddy about the imaginary hot and wild kinky sex I had with my boss?" He shot her a lecherous grin, then, his voice took on a much more thoughtful tone. "Shoulda known that it was a delusion. Your breasts were a whole lot perkier, and _much _bigger. Like, ginormous." He gestured with his hands, causing her to chuckle weakly.

They were both quiet for a long moment, then, in a soft voice, he asked, "Why?"

She was puzzled. "Why what?"

"Can we continue this fascinating conversation inside? Before we die of exposure?" He got to his feet, using his cane as leverage.

She stood up, but she made no effort to move. "Stop deflecting. Why wh..."

Before she could finish, he leaned in, and he captured her lips with his. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her closer to him. He felt her arms wrap around his neck, her hands caressing the back of his head, his neck, his shoulders.

He reluctantly broke away, leaving her stunned. He looked at her, his eyes bright and sparkling. "Why can't 'we' work out? And why the hell do we have to, well, why do _I_ have to freeze my nuts off to discuss this?"

She chuckled, still feeling the effects of the kiss, and she let him take her hand, astonished at how warm his hand was to her cold one. She let him guide her to the warmth back inside the building, wondering what was going to happen next.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A-N...Okay, now, don't hurt me on this. I got a plan, just stay with me, alright.**_

_**And, I don't beg for reviews; I figure, if you like it, you'll let me know :). But, I did want to take a moment and thank those of you (you know who you are) who take the time to leave me a review profusely for them. Hearing your thoughts really makes my day! Thanks for coming along for the ride. Just an FYI, only two more chapters to go! Thanks so much for reading this! I really love you guys for it!**_

_**And, for those who also follow Control Freak, I haven't forgotten about you. I started this when I was unemployed and had time to devote to two fics, but I'm now not unemployed anymore, and since this one is so short, I wanted to finish it first. Thanks for bearing with me. I'll be getting back to that one shortly, cross my heart!**_

**~ Chapter Eight ~**

**Repercussions**

_**Brave New World – Iron Maiden**_

_Dying swans twisted wings, beauty not needed here  
Lost my love, lost my life, in this garden of fear  
I have seen many things, in a lifetime alone  
Mother love is no more, bring this savage back home_

_Wilderness house of pain, makes no sense of it all  
Close this mind dull this brain, messiah before his fall  
What you see is not real, those who know will not tell  
All is lost sold your souls to this brave new world_

_Dragon kings dying queens, where is salvation now  
Lost my life lost my dreams, rip the bones from my flesh  
Silent screams laughing here, dying to tell you the truth  
You are planned and you are damned in this brave new world _

Dawn broke, gray and cold, gently pushing away the dark blanket of night. It softly stirred the ashes from the flames that had burned so bright during the dark of night. The vacation was over, and reality had reared its ugly head.

Cuddy slowly stirred, her body protesting the change in movement. The first thing she heard was his snores. Before she opened her eyes, she became aware of how her face was resting on his skin. She slowly opened her sleep heavy eye-lids, and she found her cheek resting on his chest. Their legs were intertwined, and his arm was around her, his hand resting heavily on her hip. It was a heavenly way to wake up.

She remembered the previous night, her memories of what had happened between them came flooding back. She remembered their words, her breath hitching at the thought...

-----------------------------------------------------------

_He led her back into the bedroom, and she swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "We...we can't be anything, because..."_

"_Because in the end, we both get hurt," he finished for her, caressing her face softly with calloused tipped fingers. On instinct, she turned into those warm fingers, fighting tears that were stinging her eyes. He kept his touch gentle and voice gentle. "So that means, we can't be a thing, right?" She nodded, feeling his thumb brush her cheekbone. "That's funny, because I've always thought we were kind of a thing, you know."_

"_Why do you always have to be right?" She closed her eyes, feeling him caress the planes of her face._

"_Because, it's hard to work with the opposite idea in mind," he told her quietly, gently tilting her chin up. "But, you're right, we probably can't be anything, but right now, we can be something. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he dipped his head, meeting her lips._

Jump_. A little voice in the back of her mind whispered as she felt his hands slip under her jacket, pulling it off._

Don't_, another voice answered for her. _What about your responsibilities? _It asked, as he tugged on her sweatshirt hem, trying to pull it off._

_She felt his calloused fingertips brush along the smooth, sensitive skin at the small of her back. _He wants to show you the man he doesn't think he can be. He wants another chance. Who are you to deny him that. You, who've given him so many...

_She made the decision, and she melted in to him._

------------------------------------------------------

And it wouldn't last. It couldn't last.

She slowly disengaged herself from him, and the only response he gave was a soft snort and some slight shifting. She exited the warm bed, fighting a yelp that rose up when her bare feet touched the cold hardwood floors. She turned back to look at him, so relaxed in sleep, far more at ease than she had ever seen him awake. The lines and creases on his craggy face had faded, and he looked much more like the young med student she had seen walking across campus all those years ago, than the care worn, world weary man he had become.

The young man she had left alone in his bed all those years ago, and now, she was doing it again.

She tip-toed her way to the bathroom, trying not to make any noise. She shut the door behind her, cringing at the loud [**click**] it made. She sighed, and she pulled out the cell phone pocket of the slacks she had worn up there and had left in the bathroom. She found the number of a cab company, but hesitated dialing the number. _A shower_, she thought to herself. _A shower, and then, a long ride home. Alone._

She turned on the water, and, when it was hot enough, she stepped inside. She inhaled deeply as the thick steam began to form. She found as she began washing, that her muscles were sore, from both the ride and the previous night's activities. Those memories brought a pang of regret; that never should have happened, and she knew, she couldn't let them happen again.

She closed her eyes, trying to stifle the thoughts, as the hot water wrapped around her like a security blanket. She hoped the water wouldn't just wash her skin, but wash away the memories as well. She lived with so many regrets, so many lost chances. It was time for her to put the professional mask back on, so she could return to the world. To her world.

She turned off the shower, and she dried and dressed quickly. She opened the door to creep down the hall, so she could call the cab.

"Running away?"

He caught her off guard. She jumped, a squeak emitting from her throat. "You ass," she breathed.

He took the phone out of her shaking hand, and he looked at the number. She could see the hurt and betrayal in his eyes, and it nearly sliced her heart in two.

"House, I...," she stammered. His piercing gaze met her eyes, and she shivered, despite the heat, having the feeling that he was x-raying her, reading her thoughts.

And she didn't want him to read her mind.

She averted her gaze from his, and she swore she heard him chuckle softly. "Still running away?" He sighed deeply, knowing what was to come. "I'll take you back to Princeton after I get dressed, and get something to eat."

She sighed. "So we can go back to avoiding each other like the plague?" The question hung heavy in the air.

He looked at her, head tilted to one side, before he answered, sadness resonating in his voice, "It's what we do, right?"

There, he'd admitted it. The elephant in the room that they had been ignoring for years. The fact that this, whatever it was, was destined to just be a tiny blip on the radar of their lives, and that they'd deny how precious it really was to them. That these few hours that they had shared together, was just that, a few precious hours in the long scheme of things, and they would be returning to their separate, lonely, miserable lives all too soon.

"So, what do we do now?" She looked up at him, sadness and disappointment reflecting in her eyes.

He shrugged, a nearly imperceptible twitch. There were so many things that he wanted to say, to tell her, but he couldn't believe any of them. So he sighed, and he reluctantly looked away from her. "I get dressed, then we leave."

She nodded, and he turned away, not looking back at her. It was already turning back to to how it always was, the silence, the denials, the hurt. They both knew that the repercussions of the weekend would resonate far longer than they wanted. The awkwardness that had slipped away was just beginning to reappear.


	9. Chapter 9

**~ Chapter Nine ~**

**The Long Road Home**

_**The Outlaw Torn – Metallica**_

_I ride the dirt I ride the tide...For you  
I search the outside search inside...For you_

_To take back what you left me  
I know I'll always burn to be  
The one who seeks so I may find  
And now I wait my whole lifetime_

_So on I wait my whole lifetime...For you  
So on I wait my whole lifetime...For you_

_The more I search the more my need...For you  
The more I bless the more I bleed...For you_

_You make me smash the clock and feel  
I'd rather die behind the wheel  
Time was never on my side  
So on I wait my whole lifetime_

_Hear me - And if I close my mind in fear  
Please pry it open  
See me - And if my face becomes sincere  
Beware  
Hold me - And when I start to come undone  
Stitch me together  
Save me - And when you see me strut  
Remind me of what left this outlaw torn _

It didn't take them long to dress, and soon, they were ready to go. She was wearing the same slacks and blouse she had worn on the trip up, but she also wore the sweatshirt he had bought her. The way the temperature kept dropping, it would help keep her warm on the long ride home.

When she left the House, he was sitting on the top step of the porch. He hopped up, and he locked up the building. Never looking at her, he made his way to the bike. She knew she had hurt him, and she couldn't even lie to herself and say she hadn't meant to.

She had known what she had done the moment she had thought about slipping out, and she knew how much that had hurt him. She might as well have driven a stake through his heart.

He mounted the bike, pulling his helmet on. As she climbed up behind him, he started the bike. She felt him wince as she wrapped her arms around him, and she felt a thick lump form in her throat. She couldn't say anything, do anything to comfort him. It was like she was moving in the thick fog of a dream.

And once again, she missed a chance to open up to him, to show him she truly cared.

After a brief stop for a silent breakfast, they made heir way back to Princeton. In the cold light of day, the trip had lost all of its exhilaration, it's excitement. The nervous tension she had felt had morphed into an extraordinary let down.

And she knew it was her fault.

The cold air followed them all the way to Princeton, and, as they pulled into the parking garage at the hospital, tiny white flakes began to gently fall from the sky. He pulled up to her car, but he never stopped the engine, never took off the helmet.

She awkwardly got off the bike, her muscles stiff from the long, cold ride. She pulled off her own helmet, and she tried to swallow her fear. "House...I," she began, as she touched his shoulder. He didn't allow her to continue, giving her a look of hurt mixed with contempt. She pulled her hand off of him like it had been burned, and she took a step back.

He revved the engine, and he left her alone, standing beside her car. Numb from both cold and hurt, she mechanically slid into her car. She made to start the engine, but she fumbled the keys, watching them fall to the floorboard. That insignificant little moment unstopped the dam of emotions inside her, and she slumped in the seat, allowing the tears to fall.

********************************

She pulled into the driveway of her house, composing herself before she returned to her life. She checked herself in the rear view mirror, and she was pretty sure that Death had looked better than she did. She was pale, no make up, and her eyes were red, puffy, and swollen. She hoped Rachael was down for a nap, or else she might frighten her little girl.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the car, and she quietly headed to the house. Entering, she heard her mother's voice drifting out of the kitchen, softly singing a song. She slipped down the hall to Rachael's room, and she saw the little brown haired girl softly sleeping, her tiny hands balled into fists. For a moment, Cuddy relaxed.

After checking on her daughter, she made her way back to the kitchen, where the rich smell of baking apples wafted out. She leaned against the doorway, watching the silver-haired woman happily bustle about the kitchen. The woman looked up abruptly, then smiled. "Lisa." Her happiness turned to worry and concern when she saw the state her child was in. "What happened?"

Cuddy shook her heard. "Nothing important, Mom." She saw the tart cooling on the counter. "You're baking?" You never bake. Not even when Abby and I were kids?"

The older woman shrugged with a smile. "Maybe I should have. Now that I'm retired, I'm learning to love things I never had time for when I was younger." She looked poignantly at her daughter. "You should keep that in mind."

Cuddy sighed and sat down at the table. Her mother placed a cup of tea in front of her. In a gentle tone, she reassured Cuddy, "I'm here to listen, if you need me..." She cut two pieces out of the tart, and she put a plate in front of Cuddy. She watched when her daughter crinkled her nose at the offending sugar filled treat. "Oh, live a little," her mother admonished, sitting down next to her. "Break your ban on sugar, and tell me what's wrong. You look like you've lost your best friend."

Cuddy bit her lip, and shook her head. Her mother gave her a hard look. "Lisa, what happened?"

She shook her head, not willing to open up. "It's nothing, Mom. Just stressed out due to work, you know." Her mother pursed her lips, not believing that explanation, but she didn't press further. Lisa guarded and locked away her secrets and emotions with care, and as far as she knew, nobody had the key.

****************************

Later that night, after her mother had left, and she had put Rachael to bed, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, folding up the jacket he had given her. She stroked the soft, synthetic leather, trying not to cry at the memories. She knew she'd never wear it again, but she wanted to keep it as a reminder of one of the best, and worst, weekends of her life.

She gently placed the jacket in a plastic storage container, and, as she was reaching for the sweatshirt, she heard a knock at the door. She frowned. It wasn't _his _knock, urgent and raucous. This was gentle. She hopped off the bed, and she made her way to the door. She peered through the peep-hole, and, breathing a sigh of relief, she opened the door. "Wilson, what are you doing here?" she asked, as she motioned him inside.

"Are you out of your mind?" He shook his head, declining her invitation.

"Nice to see you, too. Glad I don't have to guess what this is about."

"He's trying to open up to you. He wants you to know he cares."

She sighed, wrapping her arms around her. "You've talked to House."

"He...slammed the door in my face," he admitted, reluctantly.

"So, how did you..." then, the pieces fell into place. "You talked to my mother."

His face contorted into the look of guilt he got when he had been caught. "I had some questions about tomorrow's Board meeting..." Then, he met her eyes, his warm brown ones filled with caring. "Look, Lisa, he cares. He needs to know that you do, too."

"I...," she stammered. "I don't know if I can. Let him know."

Wilson shook his head. "You need to find out. I'm not sure how many chances you two have left." He walked away, and she went back inside, and she slumped to the floor, staring blankly, wondering how right Wilson really was.


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N -**_

_**This is it. Thanks to all for sticking with me through this. Thank you so much for reading, and to those (you know who you are!) who review, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart. Hugs to all. Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you!**_

_**~Imnotcrazy aka Amanda :-)**_

**~ Chapter Ten ~**

**End of the Road**

_**Planet Caravan – Black Sabbath**_

_We sail through endless skies  
Stars shine like eyes  
The black night sighs  
The moon in silver trees  
Falls down in tears  
Light of the night  
The earth, a purple blaze  
Of sapphire haze  
In orbit always_

_While down below the trees  
Bathed in cool breeze  
Silver starlight breaks down the night_

_As we travel the universe _

The clock on the wall read 3 am. He decided to ignore the soft knocking on his door, figuring that anyone that was knocking at 3 in the fucking morning needed to be ignored. Either it was Wilson, the cops, or his lonely, elderly neighbor upstairs, and he had no desire to talk to any of them. He was nursing his wounds, a glass of bourbon on the coffee table, and he knew he needed to deal with that. He'd taken a risk, and he failed. That hurt him, more than he'd ever admit.

The soft knocking continued, incessantly. He groaned, cursing to himself as he tossed the medical journal he'd been trying to read on the coffee table. Only Wilson was that persistent, he thought as he reluctantly stood up. "Goddamn it, Wilson! I don't want to talk about it!" He opened the door, angrily, but froze when he saw who was standing there.

"House, I..." Lisa Cuddy's voice drifted through the doorway. He made to slam the door, but she blocked it with her thin frame. "I'm...I'm sorry," her voice trailed off, and she stepped away from the door. She left the foyer of the building, leaving him with a stunned expression on his face, tears stinging her eyes.

He followed her into the cold, no cane and no coat. "Hey, stop!" he called out, limping towards her. "It's kinda hard for a cripple to walk with out his cane, and there's no way in hell I can catch up with you, unless you stop!"

She froze, the cold air stinging her lungs. Tiny white snowflakes fell from the sky, sprinkling her dark hair. She slowly turned around, closing her eyes, not wanting to face him, but she was drawn to him, nonetheless.

"What the hell is up with you always running away." He was breathing hard as he caught up with her, glaring at her. "And, Jesus Christ, Cuddy, why the hell do we have to always talk in the freezing cold. You're a coward, and a masochist." He paused, pursing his lips together thoughtfully. "Or, maybe you're a sadist, and you just like to see me suffer."

"This was a mistake," she breathed, taking the brunt of his tirade.

"Bullshit. It's three a.m., and you left Mowgli alone to come visit me. This was not a whim, now what do you want?" His eyes blazed fiercely.

"Her name is Rachael, and I didn't leave her alone," she muttered, wrapping her arms around her body, trying to keep warm.

"Wilson. That man should just get a sex change, and finish his life's work as a meddling spinster. Now, what do you want." His breath misted in the cold air, his mind working feverishly, trying to put the pieces together.

"I'm...I'm afraid.: She shivered as she mumbled the words, hanging her head, ashamed that she'd even admitted them.

It was his turn to freeze, stunned, but, he recovered quickly. He limped over to her, but he didn't say anything for a moment. So many things ran through his mind, but he knew she had to make the first move. This was her game, her move, her ball. "Of what?" he asked in a whisper, so close to her, but yet, too far away.

She was intimidated by his closeness, but she knew that this was her last chance. It was now, or never. "Of everything. Of losing Rachael, of losing my job." She forced herself to look up at him. "Of losing you." Her voice was a harsh whisper.

"You'll never lose me. I'm a boil on that luscious large ass of yours," he murmured, watching her chuckle at his rude comment. In a softer voice, he whispered, "I've just been waiting for you to see that." He lifted a hand, and he gently stroked her hair. "I...I just couldn't wait anymore."

"I could lose my job over this," she closed her eyes tightly, stepping in to his body, embracing him tightly.

"No, you won't," he snorted. "No way in hell the Board'll ever give you up. Nope, they'll just pull me out of your direct command...oh wait, I'm not a department head anymore. You put Foreman in charge, so, nope that won't be a problem. Makes me Foreman and HR's problem now. And you know how much they love me." Sarcasm drenched his voice.

She sniffed into his chest. "You sound like you have this all figured out."

"Do you even know me? I always have a plan." He nuzzled her hair, softly kissing the rich, fragrant waves. She tilted her head up to look at him, and he softly pressed his lips to hers. She opened her mouth, welcoming his tongue, but he didn't take advantage. Instead, he pressed his forehead to hers. "Give me a chance," he pleaded with her, softly. "If it works, it works. If it doesn't, it doesn't. But give me the opportunity to fail."

"What about Rachael?"

"What about her?" She opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off. "She's apart of you, of your life. Not gonna lie, it's not the perfect situation, but she's yours. She makes you happy, and I can accept that. I can accept her."

Tears glistened in her eyes, and she held him tighter. The stood there for a long moment, just holding on to each other, then he led her back inside.

A few hours later, the sun broke through the dusty, frost covered windows, and he felt her press up against him. They'd made their way into his bedroom sometime in the short night. "I have to leave," she whispered, pressing her lips to his. "Board meeting." she explained. "Come by my place tonight."

He shook his head sleepily. "Lemme get dressed. I'll take you home. Now that I got you, I'm never gonna let you go." he murmured against her lips." She hesitated, then nodded, knowing home was where he and Rachael were.


	11. Chapter 11

**_A/N -_**

**_Sorry for any confusion. I was rereading this, and I decided to separate the Epilogue out into a separate chapter. Sorry, but I'm not adding anymore. _**

**_Thanks!  
_**

**~ Epilogue ~**

**The Road Winds On**

_**Dream of Mirrors – Iron Maiden**_

_Have you ever felt the future is the past, but you don't know how...?  
A reflected dream of a captured time, is it really now, is it really happening?_

_Don't know why I feel this way, have I dreamt this time, this place?  
Something vivid comes again into my mind  
And I think I've seen your face, seen this room, been in this place  
Something vivid comes again into my mind_

_All my hopes and expectations, looking for an explanation  
Have I found my destination? I just cant take no more_

_The dream is true, the dream is true  
The dream is true, the dream is true_

_**One Year Later**_

The air was warm for mid-November. The sun had set, and a breezy darkness had blanketed Princeton. Lisa Cuddy walked to her car, exhausted after a grueling Board meeting, the sound of her heels clicking on the cement echoing across the deserted garage level.

It was still odd, sitting in, but not really participating in the meeting. Her "relationship" with one, Greg House, had prevented her from participating any meeting dealing with either his behavior or requests, but that had only been part of this meeting. The other part, the budget meeting, she had to be there, as she was the one who organized the budget.

She unlocked the car door, but before she could sit down, she saw the shiny black helmet and single white rose bud sitting on the seat. Tears misted in her eyes, and she reached down and brushed the delicate rose bud with her fingertips.

"I don't care about the niceties," a gruff voice grumbled behind her, "but I know you do." She felt his warm breath in his ear, his scent of coffee and leather flooding her senses, and she couldn't stifle her gasp."

"House!" she chided, turning around in his arms. "What are you doing he..." She was cut off as he dipped his head and softly kissed her.

"Thought you'd like a reminder of our anniversary. Had to put it in your car; if I come within 10 feet of your office, the Board'll own both our asses. They're still not happy I grabbed your ass right in front of Harwick in the Clinic a few months back." He frowned. "I'm tryin', ya know."

"I know," she whispered, resting her head against his chest.

He held her tighter, stroking her hair. "Called your mom," he mumbled, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head.

"Really? Why?"

"Wanted to know if she could watch the Brat for the weekend."

She sighed, "Her name is Rachael..."

"So you keep telling me." He sighed. "So, you wanna go for a ride?"

_THE END_


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